The splatter of water droplets filling the wood floor had hypnotized me for a moment allowing me to forget the void feelings that had attached themselves to my heart. It had been raining for the past several days and finally, the sun had made an appearance allowing for the beauty of nature to be exposed in a crystallized dewy morning. The sun’s rays bounced off of all the raindrops that had fallen onto blooming petals and lush green hills. I loved the rain and the coldness it brought along with it but as I gazed out of the window to acknowledge the flowers awakening to the sun’s rays it reminded me just how magical the summer sun could be. There’s a sweet spot between spring and summer where the flowers have reached their full bloom and the trees have sprouted their new baby green leaves, where the spring showers are met with the blissfulness of a sweet summer. This sweet spot forever gets me wondering just how much joyful possibilities there are to the days to come. My view of the garden is blocked as for a second my eyes closed and reawaken to the view of draped brown rags and worn out cotton. “So I assume you think that all the work will be taken care of for you?” Miss Dilley asked me rhetorically with her booming authoritative voice.
Ms. Dilley was the kind of women who could sort out any mismanaged estate, the kind of women who laboured her day away in the blistering sun and lush Irish soil mending the gardens. Her precision and focus set her apart from any other women as she believed that all work was to done with all strength and devotion. Her devotion to hard commitment and never giving up could be seen in her devout connection with the Lord and her early morning prayers. She would randomly burst out in a hymn as she cleaned or cooked her days away knowing that all she did was that for her Lord. Ms. Dilley in all her sweetness was not a woman to be trifled with as her sweet voice held as much impact as her fist. “Are you just going to lay there or actually do something dear?” her voice boomed me into focus as my body jerk from the cold wood floor, like a cadet address his lieutenant. “Oh yes… I have been working Ms. Dilly.” I pointed at the polished wood flooring, having forgotten the water droplets that had now turned into a puddle from my mop hanging over the bucket. I watched as her eyes stared over my tiny frame allowing for me to change my statement as her bright green eyes had taken account my lack of focus and hard work being evident in the big water puddle ever-growing within the room. “I see just how much you view your job here Corletta.” Ms. Dilley spoke softly handing me the pile of fabric she had come into the study with.
The only time my name was ever spoken by Ms. Dilley had only taken place in no more than five accounted incidents and each incident was not of any good resolve. I felt myself turning in anxious fear awaiting for her to add more to her feelings of disappointment in my work ethic. I was never the top worker or heights achiever, if I were a bee I would have been kicked out of the colony for lack of contribution. My work ethics is not one that lacks because I desire to lounge about and listen to the classical compositions of the maestro playing away from his newest symphony, concerto and so forth. I was lacking in focus on tasks so mundane and labour consuming. My daily tasks had gotten so uninspired that they had left me feeling a float. All my sparks of creativity and invention were meat with piles of heavy fabrics in need of washing and an endless array of floors needing moping well dishes piled up day by day.
“Don’t forget to separate the cream whites from the eggshell whites!” Ms. Drilley shouted as she left me standing in the middle of the giant study. I turned to face the big panelled windows to gaze one last time at the beautiful landscape that had filled me with a feeling of hope. I watch as a little yellow bird sits against the window edge admiring the view just as I was. “How nice it must be for you little bird to go where ever you please and know that all will be taken care of for you. Oh, how I wish I too could be like a bird in the sky. Soaring high up above and gazing at all the beautiful things of nature that have been created by God.” I turned away from the window as the bird took off instantly as it had forgetting my existence. With the little focus I had left I pulled out all my strength and rapidly cleared the puddle mess that had filled the wood flooring of the study. I had left the smell of paper bound and ink stains as I carried a load of washing down the lustrous hallways filled with classic paintings of royalty and poetic odes transferred into symbolic images. I headed down to toil away at another unwanted task.